


Remember what we're fighting for

by Elisexyz



Series: Battlefield [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Injury, Season/Series 01, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-08 19:26:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18629743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: “Here’s what I don’t get,” Jemma begins, straight to the point, dropping on the couch in front of the one he’s sitting on. She waits until he has put down the gun and raised his eyes on her to continue. “If I am your soulmate—howcould you do that to me?”





	Remember what we're fighting for

**Author's Note:**

> Did I just publish a sequel to a fic I wrote almost a year ago?  
>  ...Yup. I did. I'm ridiculous like that. Truth is I found a few paragraphs of this already done and I thought: "Eh, what the hell". Better late than never, right?

As Jemma walks through the door, her crutches making too much noise for her not to be noticed, Grant keeps his eyes focused on the gun he’s cleaning, knowing that it’s best not to push it, even as his stomach takes a hopeful leap and his muscles automatically relax, like it’s natural every time he and Jemma are in the same room.

The two of them have been hiding out alone for a couple of days already, and they haven’t exchanged more than a few words at once, largely because Jemma has been doing her best to avoid him, in spite of him being the only source of company available.

He was honestly pretty surprised when Coulson announced that the team was leaving to assist in the fight and that he would be left to make sure that nothing happens to Jemma. He supposes that with bigger fish to fry and their soulmark as proof that hurting her wouldn’t benefit him at all they decided to take a calculated risk. Skye and Fitz didn’t seem to be particularly enthusiastic at the idea, but they left all the same. Jemma probably insisted that they took the chance – he’d like to think that it’s because she trusts him, on some level, but it’s far more likely that she simply didn’t want to take any manpower away for her personal protection.

The fact that she’s now approaching him is a little surprising: he knew it’d happen, eventually, he just didn’t think that it’d be so soon. He needs to avoid scaring her off at all costs.

“Here’s what I don’t get,” Jemma begins, straight to the point, dropping on the couch in front of the one he’s sitting on. She waits until he has put down the gun and raised his eyes on her to continue. “If I am your soulmate— _how_ could you do that to me?” she finally asks, her face forcibly neutral.

It isn’t a surprising question, but it twists a knife in his gut all the same.

If she were a mark, he would probably try to humanize his position, sharing some information about his past, painting himself as as much of a victim as he can manage, but this his soulmate, and he never wanted her to be a mark – she was, for a while, but that was beyond his control; it isn’t now.

“I was trying to save Garrett,” he says then, honestly. It seemed worth it. He was the first person in his whole life to actually give a shit and throw him a rope, he owed it to him, he owed it _all_ — even the risk that his relationship with his soulmate might get fucked because of his betrayal – a part of him always hoped that she’d forgive him, eventually, because she’s supposed to.

She inhales sharply, giving a curt nod. “What made you change your mind then?”

He clenches his jaw. _Honesty_ , honesty is _important_. And this actually works in his favour, although only thinking about it makes him want to throw up.

“He wanted me to kill you,” he confesses, quickly, his eyes darting away for a second.

Jemma leans back against the couch, crossing her arms. “Well, you could have just told him that I was—” Something must show on his face, because she stops dead on her tracks, her posture relaxing slightly at the same time as her frown turns to surprise. “You—you did tell him, didn’t you?” she asks, her tone surprisingly gentle.

“Yup,” he replies, a bitter grin twisting his lips. “Guess I couldn’t pass _that_ particular test.”

She silently stares at him for a few seconds, leaning forward a little, and he’d probably be enjoying the absence of hatred and anger on her face a little more if it weren’t for that very annoying lump in his throat.

He hadn’t told John about her, not right way: he figured it’d only be seen as a weakness and a problem, and that he’d better keep it in check on his own, without getting him involved. But then, when John told him to cross off both her and Fitz as a _precaution_ , because they got their hands on some data that they weren’t supposed to and that he didn’t bother asking about, and his attempts at convincing him that Jemma would be of more use alive – “Nah, she ain’t turning, son, just kill her.” – didn’t work, he _had_ to tell him.

And John didn’t give a shit. He put on a sympathetic expression, but as he gripped his shoulder in fatherly fashion he simply said: “It’s important, you understand me? We are _this_ close to having it all, just get her out of the way. You’ll be better off, trust me.”

He hadn’t even made it out of the door before he’d decided that he _wouldn’t_.

“I’m sorry,” Jemma offers, after a pause. It sounds sincere, and he gives a small smile in return.

“Thanks,” he replies. He shifts a little on his seat, which proves to be a mistake when a sharp pain shoots through his ribcage and he’s reminded that his ribs still aren’t doing too well right now.

“What was _that_?” Jemma demands, her expression shifting from softness to an all too familiar mix of anger and concern impressively fast.

“What was what?” he asks, feigning innocence as best as he can.

She doesn’t fall for it, narrowing her eyes and shooting him a glare. “Don’t give me that. Your _face_. You _winced_.” She pauses. “Are you _hurt_?”

 _Honesty, Grant_ , he reminds himself. Plus, she always sees through his bullshit when it comes to this kind of stuff. “Just a couple of broken ribs, nothing I can’t handle,” he concedes, with a small shrug.

He swears that he can see smoke coming out of her ears.

“You have _broken_ _ribs_?” she thunders, after gaping in outrage for a few moments. “Why didn’t you say anything? And what else are you hiding?” He’s about to answer something about how everything else is fine and there isn’t much you can do for broken ribs anyway, but she doesn’t give him time to. “Nevermind that, get up— _slowly_ ,” she immediately reprimands, before he can move a muscle. “I’m giving you a thorough physical, I can’t take you at your word when it comes to your health, because you are a _moron_.”

She pushes herself up, by now pretty used to her crutches, and he only keeps staring at her, fighting the grin bubbling at his lips, because this—this is so normal, so like her.

She has been so distant since shit hit the fan, and he gets it, of course he does, but now she’s concerned and angry because he didn’t tell her that he was hurt and it makes his chest ache in the best of ways.

“What?” Jemma prompts, raising her eyebrows at him when he doesn’t get up. “Do you think I can’t do my job as unofficial team medic on one leg?”

He smiles so wide he probably looks like an idiot. “Nope,” he assures. “I’d never think that.”

He knows they aren’t okay, not yet, but she doesn’t hate him, and that’s the best start that he could possibly hope for.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including: 
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason, feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!


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